


Summer Mornings

by TheUnamazingTrashKing



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff, It's fluffy hours bro, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnamazingTrashKing/pseuds/TheUnamazingTrashKing
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 227





	Summer Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> It's all fluff so it's pretty SFW, but they are naked at the beginning and Jaskier does say fuck. (actually he says horse fucker) but... whatever.

Geralt woke to find the sun rising through the window and straight into his eyes. He rolled over to escape the bright burn and found himself comforted by the sight before him. Resting on his stomach, with his arms folded under the pillow and face highlighted by a stray beam, was Jaskier. He looked like he was a painted portrait. His messy hair falling over his closed eyes, lips parted in a silent snore, the bare skin of his back softly glowing, and the sheet wrapped low around his waist.

Geralt reached out and let his hand trail along Jaskier’s spine. The smooth skin raised in goosebumps and he stirred, letting out a mumble that could have been words before being slurred through sleep. He lifted his head just enough to pull one arm out and stretch out to rest on Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt brought his own hand back from Jaskier’s back and held the bard’s fingers. They were a musician's fingers. They weren’t rough like they would be if they held weapons, but there were some trained callouses. The kind that firmed up the parts of his hand that would press into a lute’s strings. He pressed the back of the fingers against his lips for a moment before saying, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

A smile pulled lazily on Jaskier’s lips. “‘S okay,” He mumbled. He rolled himself onto his side and snuggled up into Geralt’s chest, his lips pressed against the skin. 

“We will have to get out of bed soon,” Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist with a groan. “You’ll break my heart, talking about that sort of tragic thing, my love.” 

“Hmm.” He couldn’t think of any other response in that moment. He wrapped his arms around the songbird as he spoke softly against his skin. 

“If we stayed here for a few mere hours who would bother us? Just until the sun comes all the way up. It has hardly kissed the horizon and we haven’t kissed at all.” 

Geralt let out a small huff of a laugh. “I kissed your hand.” 

“Maybe so.” The muttering lips puckered into a kiss of their own. He shifted and it felt like he was trying to bury himself in Geralt’s very skin. He stopped after a second and breathed in deeply. It was one of those things that Jaskier always seemed to do, although Geralt wondered if he could really smell appealing. Sure, he’d bathed but it wasn’t as if he smelt like flowers. Jaskier, on the other hand - whose hair happened to be in smelling distance - absolutely did. It was hard to pin down exactly what flower had left such a prominent scent on him, but that was probably because he tended to bathe in so many. If he had to guess, buttercups and dandelions. 

Geralt lifted a hand to brush the soft locks framing the bard’s face, his fingers slipping through the silk strands easily. “How long did you want to stay?” 

“Forever.” The answer was a sigh. It also wasn’t really possible. At some point, they would have to leave. They would run out of money to pay the innkeeper but, before that, they would get hungry. And before even that, Jaskier would likely grow tired of only Geralt’s attention. 

Rather than point these things out, Geralt simply hummed. “Hmm,” but he knew that Jaskier was likely to understand how unreasonable the request was. 

“We could, you know?” The words were still lazy on his tongue, but there was a perk of wakefulness to them. “Just stay here for forever. You shoot the innkeeper an angry glare whenever he comes in, we get food delivered,” He sighed happily, “No more monsters.” 

“No more music,” Geralt retorted. 

Jaskier pulled away enough to look up and glare at Geralt. “Are you suggesting you wouldn’t let me sing for you?” 

Geralt ran his fingers down Jaskier’s back. “I don’t think I’d get a choice.” 

The bard grinned, “No you wouldn’t.” He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw and settled back against him. His fingers traced over scars, but he never asked. Geralt thought maybe Jaskier prefered not to know. He could make up his own stories that way. That was fine by Geralt since it meant he didn’t have to go over them all again. “Maybe we should retire.” 

“I’m a witcher and you’re too young.” 

“We could get a place by the ocean,” He continued as if Geralt hadn’t spoken, “Somewhere with lots of trees and birds. We can learn how to brew our own ale, sew our own clothes. We can wake like this every morning. We wouldn’t have to get up until you wanted to get us breakfast.” 

Geralt sighed. “I see you don’t plan on learning to cook in this scenario.” 

“No,” He agreed, stretching out his arms with a long groan, “I don’t. But I’ll learn any song you ever want to hear.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was the sort of sweet thing that he was already thinking too hard about. Something Jaskier just said or promised without thinking it through. The kind of thing that Geralt was never going to get used to. It was probably on a mile long list of all the things that he’d never be able to think of a response to that showed that same sort of casual affection. 

“Is there a song you want me to learn for you?” 

Geralt shrugged, “Most of the songs I know well are yours.” 

Jaskier was quiet for a moment and Geralt wondered if the comment had upset him. Afterall, Jaskier loved music, but Geralt took very little interest in it. He didn’t despise it by any means, but it was often background noise to him. He only really listened to Jaskier. Finally, the bard replied, “Then I’ll learn every song in the world and sign them all to you until you pick a favourite.” 

Geralt kissed the top of his head. “But you won’t learn how to cook.” 

“No, I think you should make your expectations of me more realistic.” Geralt laughed softly and kissed his head again. The air in the room had changed since they’d woken. The sleep resting over them had left. Jaskier’s voice had grown clear and he’d started stretching and wiggling. It was clear, despite his insistence that they shouldn’t leave, that he was pretty well ready to start moving. 

Geralt removed Jaskier’s arms from his waist so he could sit up. “We have things to do today.” 

Jaskier made a halfhearted attempt at dragging Geralt back into the bed, his hand resting on his neck. If Geralt thought that returning would result in anything other than Jaskier getting uncomfortable in three seconds it might have worked. Instead, he took the hand from his neck, pressing a kiss to it before letting it go and leaving the bed. 

He pulled on a pair of pants and looked back over to see Jaskier watching him. The imagery of an oil painting filled his mind again. The man was sitting halfway up, his head resting in his hand. The sheets and furs on the bed didn’t reach beyond his hips, instead falling to draw the eyes from the hip bone down to where the loose fabric left him somewhat exposed. 

“You’re staring,” Jaskier teased, dragging Geralt out of the image. He grabbed his shirt and shot the man a look to suggest the statement went both ways. Jaskier laughed, “It’s not too late for you to take those pants back off.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt was considering it, but they had quite a bit of travelling to do. He wanted to be on the road before midday, and wasn’t sure that returning to bed with Jaskier would allow for that. 

“Oh, you are talkative today,” Jaskier laughed, flopping himself back down on the bed with a heavy _thwump_ and a sigh. If Geralt had needed proof that his bard was properly awake that would have been more than enough. 

“Hmm.” 

“Now you’re doing it on purpose.” Jaskier’s hand trailed over his own chest as he watched Geralt pull his shirt over his head. Geralt watched the hand from the corner of his eye. He wished it were his own hand, but he also knew that Jaskier knew that, and giving in to Jaskier’s taunting would ensure they weren’t getting anywhere for at least a few more hours. 

“You need to get out of bed.” 

Jaskier let out a heavy, affected sigh. The sort often reserved for dramatic, overworked maidens and dogs who have been sitting still for too long. “Fine,” He rolled his eyes, “But I’ll have you remember you woke me.” Geralt watched him rise from bed while also trying to find his boots. He would have found them much faster if he’d only done one of those things. Though, It was hard not to watch when Jaskier was walking around naked. He at least had the reprieve of the man putting his pants on. 

Geralt finished lacing up his boots and headed into the bathroom. He was brushing his teeth when Jaskier joined him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head on Geralt’s back. “Do we have a plan for breakfast?” 

Geralt spat out the mouthful. “We’ll eat here before we leave.” 

“The food is terrible here,” Jaskier grumbled. 

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier released Geralt and grabbed his own toothbrush. “Do you think,” He muttered around the brush, “We should grab some more fruit for the road?” 

“Hmm.” Roach could use more apples. The horse did love apples. 

“I think peaches are in season at the moment,” Jaskier continued. “There’s no sense in only eating bread and meat all the time. My skin will go dry and I’ll break out in ance. Before you know it, you won’t be able to look at me.” 

Geralt doubted that greatly. “We’ll get you peaches, if they’re in season.” 

“If they aren’t?” 

Geralt spat again. “Then age.” He turned around and left the bathroom. Jaskier made an unhappy noise in retaliation, but didn’t argue too much. Perhaps it was because he aged so slowly, but he didn’t understand Jaskier’s fear of growing older. When Geralt imagined him with wrinkles and greying hair, it filled his heart. It was just nice to imagine that someone he loved might age, to begin with. Especially someone who might age gently. It wasn’t as though Jaskier would become unsightly with age. He was a charming man by nature, there wasn’t anything his appearance would do to that. 

The two headed down for breakfast. As Jaskier had mentioned, it was bad. The porridge was flavourless and there were no other options that weren’t buzzing with flies. It was so poor, Jaskier even seemed depressed for a moment looking at the food. He pushed it about with his spoon but only ate a couple mouthfuls. 

“If you don’t eat it, you’ll regret it later.” 

“I suspect I’ll regret it either way.” He took another bite and made a face. 

“You were so eager for breakfast not long ago,” Geralt grumbled. 

“Oh, haha. I’m sure my misery is comedy gold to you.” 

Geralt looked up with a face he hoped was somewhere between pity and nonchalance. Just enough pity to show he cared, but not enough for Jaskier to think he can dramatise the situation for anymore sympathy. The look must have worked since he grumbled to himself and ate another spoonful of the horrid meal. 

There were only about three seconds of silence as Jaskier forced the porridge down his throat before he started speaking again. “Okay, so, what I’m thinking is,” He started, quickly letting the spoon fall back into the bowl. It was clear to Geralt that he would have to feed the bard on the road since he had no intention of finishing his breakfast. “We build a boat with a cabin and a set of sails. Not a big proper ship, just something the two of us can handle ourselves, and we go out on the ocean and travel for a year or two.” 

Geralt listened to Jaskier rant about the fantastical sea voyage they would allegedly take for the rest of his meal. He occasionally made sounds to show he was listening, but mostly bit his tongue on the fact that Jaskier would hate the whole experience in reality. The sun and salt would dry out his skin, and he’d get rope burn from the ropes. Besides, a year with just the two of them was a recipe for disaster. Jaskier would quickly bore without proper conversation and someone who would actually know how to talk about his music. They were fine travelling together specifically because he could go to taverns and play and flirt while Geralt worked. It was something that occurred to Geralt whenever Jaskier started on one of these fantasies. Although, he had to admit he found it endearing. If he ignored what Jaskier would actually need, the idea of just the two of them travelling on the ocean sounded nice. The labour and routine of sailing - since he would likely do most of it himself - with the company of Jaskier sounded pleasant. It was just the practicality that brought him to a stop. Still, he could watch Jaskier talk for hours. The way his face lit up when he considered something new, like the food they would have on their voyage, was heartstopping. And he practically melted when Jaskier would get that faraway look and grin as he started describing the places they’d see. Like the ocean. It wasn’t just big and blue to him, it was astounding: “The salty breeze will come off the waves and, in the light, they’ll look like liquid sapphires. And at night it’ll all go still and we’ll be able to see the stars in the water as if the sky were below us, and “up” will mean nothing anymore.” Before he knew it he’d finished eating, but Jaskier was only up to the part where they found some new land. 

Geralt hated to interrupt but the two of them really did have to get a move on. There was a moment when Jaskier’s face fell when he was pulled back to reality. The simple inn and the bland porridge. Geralt tried to ease him in a little more kindly with a promise of fruits. 

They stopped by the marketplace, which they would’ve needed to do either way. Despite Jaskier wanting otherwise, they would still need simple things like bread that wouldn’t perish quickly on their journey. Then again, it wasn’t as if Jaskier was really paying that much attention to what they were purchasing. It had become a habit that, while they were travelling together, Jaskier would give his money to Geralt who would look after the bard’s needs. At first, Geralt hadn’t understood the desire to pass off the control of travelling gear to someone else but, after some time with him, it started to make sense. He had a penchant for shiny things. Useless things. At the very least, he acknowledged it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t survive on his own, it was just that if he did it was likely also with an extra ring or broach. This way, he was less likely to buy unnecessary things and spend money he might later need. It also let him hop about the place and flirt to his heart’s content. 

It was quite cute to watch. It was effortless and charming. At least, with the women. Jaskier may have feelings for people regardless of their gender, but it was clear he understood better how to approach women. He still wasn’t necessarily good at it, but he was more confident. He’d had more practise, which made sense. Jaskier’s taste in men, if Geralt himself was anything to go off, wasn’t exactly the most approachable type. It didn’t stop him from approaching, but it made the flirtatious banter he seemed to enjoy so much more difficult. 

Geralt found a stall selling, from what he could tell by smell and appearance, the best fruits. Most were completely ripe, good for satisfying Jaskier immediately - but plenty were underripe - better for travelling. He bought the peaches, bagging most and keeping one out. He glanced around and quickly found his bard serenading a group of young women who were all giggling at the lovesick tune. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt called, catching the bard’s attention. He turned with a look of curiosity that quickly turned to joy when he saw the peach in Geralt’s outstretched hand. 

“Oh! Geralt, my love, you are the most brilliant-” He approached to take the peach and Geralt quickly returned it to himself and took a bite while staring the man dead in the face. Jaskier’s face froze in shock and betrayal, his hand still out for the treat. The flesh was soft and sweet and juice ran from the bite down his chin. 

Geralt placed the rest of the peach in the man’s hand and turned away. “Let’s go.” 

Jaskier shook himself out of his shock and rushed to catch up with Geralt. “You really are the worst, do you know that?” 

“Hmm.” 

The two of them finally had the opportunity to pick up Roach. Geralt was glad to see the horse well cared for and gave it some of the freshly bought apple. He’d almost forgotten the smell of the horse’s hair and the straw beneath its feet. It gave him an affectionate bump and he ran his hand over its neck, speaking softly, “You ready to go off again, Roach?” 

“I swear you’re sweeter to that horse than to me,” Jaskier teased with a grin. 

“Hmm.” 

“You know, most people would say that makes it seem like you might be intimate with your horse,” He clarified, apparently thinking the joke had gone over Geralt’s head. He approached so he could put an arm around his waist, which happened to be the perfect spot to receive a side-eyed glare. “I’m calling you a horse fucker.” 

“That would make you a horse.” 

Jaskier squinted. “...Touché.” 

Geralt huffed out a laugh and led Roach out of the stable. He only needed one hand, so the other rested on Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier practically melted against him. They walked together like that on their way out of the town. 

Jaskier waved to a couple of the people he’d been singing to and they all seemed to recognise something about them as they passed. It was something Geralt was still getting used to, people knowing that the two of them were _something_. It made him nervous, but Jaskier was always so calm and collected, which calmed him in turn. It was hard to be truly anxious when the man holding his waist was composed. 

That nervousness vanished when they were out of town. It was replaced by the sense of freedom at the wide open area around them. The trees and dry grass were like a barrier between fear and the body. It allowed Geralt to settle more easily into holding Jaskier, his hand falling from his waist to his back pocket. Jaskier responded with a kiss on Geralt’s shoulder. 

“So,” Geralt said, “I believe you were up to figuring out what we’re naming this new land when we find it.” 

Jaskier picked up almost immediately where he had left off after breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I have some emotions on this ship it's wild that I haven't written anything for them, I've just been so big on trying to write this Mumen/TankTop fic and it's like... hard. These boys are easy because there's so much more on them, u know?


End file.
